


Each of Us Sharing the Same Wardrobe

by Mari



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Crossdressing, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-06
Updated: 2011-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:36:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mari/pseuds/Mari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each of Us Sharing the Same Wardrobe (or, The One Where Spock Borrows Uhura's Clothes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Each of Us Sharing the Same Wardrobe

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, happening on the bridge. Well, not _really_ nothing. Chekov and Sulu were showing off to each other by doing something that Uhura couldn't quite understand with theoretical mathematics, but unless she wanted to join them – and she didn't – there was nothing for _Uhura_ to do except sit and stare and let her mind wander while she waited for her shift to end.

She thought about Spock. About their relationship, and how it was the most fulfilling thing she could possibly imagine, intellectually – he was interested in _everything_ , always up for exploring new ideas and having exciting conversations late into the night – and yet so difficult emotionally. And, well, sexually. It wasn't that the sex wasn't good. It was fantastic. It was that it was always up to Uhura. Spock was a willing participant in anything she wanted to do, and he took direction amazingly well – touch me _there_ , deeper, harder, bend your knees… If she asked him to hum while he was going down on her, she was sure he'd just ask if she had a preference of tune – but he was so reserved that it had taken weeks of her constantly stopping to ask, "is this okay? Do you mind if I…?" before she was convinced that he really was consenting.

And as hard as it sometimes was to be sure that he was amenable to her desires, it was almost impossible to find out what _he_ wanted. She could ask "is this good? Is this what you want?" a thousand times a night, and she'd never get a more expansive response than "this is very pleasurable" or "I find this perfectly adequate." Every once in a while, if she was lucky, he might say something as direct as "I would enjoy it if you were to repeat that motion."

Her thoughts had been so full of him for the last hour that Uhura wasn't really surprised to find Spock waiting for her in her quarters when her shift finally ended. She _was_ surprised to find him wearing one of her uniforms, the red fabric pulling tight across his shoulders and hanging straight from there to just below his narrow hips.

"Spock," she said, blinking. "What are you doing?"

"Trying on your clothing," he answered. Which would be some pretty smart-assed stating of the obvious from anyone else, but from Spock…

"Can I ask why?"

"I…wanted to."

"And you wanted me to know about it," she said, after a moment. "Right? Because why else would you do this here, now, when you know my schedule."

"Your logic is sound," he acknowledged calmly.

But he wasn't looking at her, and Uhura could tell that he was uncomfortable. Nervous, maybe? Frightened? He shifted his weight so slightly that someone unused to watching him for faint emotional cues would never have noticed, the fabric of her uniform pulling across his hips, and – ah. Nervous, and _aroused_.

She certainly hadn't expected to suddenly find out that her alien boyfriend got off on wearing her clothes, but Uhura was touched that he trusted her enough to show her, even if he couldn't bring himself to _talk_ about it first. And, she had to admit, he looked good in red.

She went to him and put her hands on his shoulders, tilting her head to press a kiss to the side of his jaw. "Okay, then. Did you just want to wear the dress? Do you want to put on some of my makeup?"

Uhura felt him twitch against her hip, and took that for an answer, though he didn't say a word as she led him to the sink and sat him down on her little vanity stool in front of the mirror. She crouched down behind him, looking at the reflection of his face under the direct lighting.

"You have such beautiful, dark eyelashes," she murmured. "You really don't need eyeliner or mascara."

His eyelids drifted shut and he sighed very slightly. Pleasure. Uhura smiled, then touched his jaw and tilted his head towards her with one hand as she uncapped a tube of lipstick.

"Part your lips a little, yes, like that," she instructed, applying the cosmetic. "And now, press them together lightly, mmhmm, good. Take a look."

Spock stared at his reflection, and he was so still that Uhura couldn't read him anymore. Worried that he was disappointed, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, giving him a gentle hug.

"It's not really your color, is it?" she said. "Too warm, I think. We'll have to get you some of your own, maybe a violet –"

Spock interrupted her before she could suggest that coral pink might be another good choice with his complexion, turning to grab her around the waist and pull her abruptly down to sit in his lap. She didn't even have time to open her mouth to ask what he was doing before he had covered her lips with his own, fiercely kissing off the lipstick she had just applied. His hands were hot on her body, moving without her directions, stroking and kneading, and his hips rocked up against her with almost frantic haste, leaving her in no doubt for once about what Spock wanted.

Hell, she was going to get him a whole new _wardrobe_.


End file.
